Silver Service by a_silver_story | 29
Jan. 18th, 2010 03:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: Silver Service
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Chapter: 29/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe, torture (not graphic)
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
Silver Service | 29
Dangerous.
That really was the only word Ianto could think of to describe Jack’s driving. While ‘fast’, ‘reckless’ and ‘mortally perilous’ sprang to mind, ‘dangerous’ was round about the only word Ianto could dredge forward as they swerved a slalom from the left hand lane, across the middle and into the fast lane and back again, narrowly dodging cars and travelling at around about a hundred and thirty.
“Please ... be careful, Jack ....” gasped Ianto, his knuckles white on the dashboard of the stolen Audi.
“I’m concentrating.” Jack growled in reply as another driver honked his horn.
“Jack ... there’s been no sign of them yet ... Just ... please can we slow a little ....”
“When the fast lane clears, I’ll slow.” he promised as the engine roared in protest at being egged on faster.
Ianto closed his eyes, and decided that not thinking about or seeing what was happening would probably do wonders for his current mental state. After a few minutes, he felt the gravity on the car and the forces acting upon it shift, and slowly opened his eyes to see they were finally dropping in speed. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over at the speedometer and saw they were slowly approaching something resembling the speed limit, and the blurs that had been the other cars were beginning to take a solid shape.
“How can you drive that fast and not get us killed?”
“In the RAF you have to fly like that normally. It’s called ‘finely honed reactions’. Are you alright?”
Ianto blinked. It had been a long time since Jack had asked after his welfare. “I ... yes ... I am now.”
“Good ... good.”
The Captain began indicating he was pulling into the next lane, and Ianto checked to see he was heading towards the exit they needed.
“Country lanes for a few miles after this.” he sighed. “You will be careful on those, won’t you? You’re more likely to be in an accident on a narrow country lane than on a motorway full of idiots driving like you.”
“I promise to keep you safe.” Jack replied, distracted for a moment by the mirrors, checking the rest of the traffic.
They sighed in unison, though neither of them really noticed, and fell into silence. Eventually, Ianto leaned forward and put the radio on, and they drove on quietly.
~*~*~*~
Ianto must have fallen asleep. He opened his eyes, groggy, a headache starting to form where his head had been resting against the cold window.
“C’mon ....” Jack’s voice was whispering near his ear. “... wake up, Ianto. Gotta wake up.”
Groaning he turned to Jack, squinting at him in the sunlight. “What?”
“I need your joy riding skills. Ditch this car, get another.”
“They know where we’re headed, Jack.”
“What if they’ve figured out which car we stole?” he asked. “Just in case, I parked it where it can be seen before pulling into the services. If they spot it, they’ll pull in here to search. It could buy us time.”
Ianto nodded, deciding it was logical. “Wait!” he grinned, another idea coming to him. He took a piece of scrap paper from the glove compartment and scribbled down a false address and postcode for the same area as where the black line in the A to Z in Jack’s car ended, but changed the last couple of numbers to a made up combination. “There ... they might know it’s fake, but it’s worth a try.” he said, dropping it near the car.
The car park was pretty crowded as it was just past midday and several people were pulling in for lunch. They got a couple of funny looks as Ianto began forcing down the window of a BMW, but Jack just told them they’d locked the keys in the car – did they look like they were car thieves? The people would take in Ianto's expensive suit and Jack’s ex-military garb – maybe recognised him – and nod, and Jack thanked them for their vigilance. He’d like to think if someone was trying to steal the car, someone else would say something.
Eventually they were in, and as Jack settled into the driver’s seat Ianto began messing with the wires, his head practically in the Captain’s lap. Jack ran fingers through his hair, annoying him unintentionally, but he didn’t say anything, concentrating on the task in hand and feeling a strange sense of victory when the engine grumbled into life.
They began to make their way out of the car park, pulling back onto the motorway they’d had to rejoin after their sojourn to the country. Jack drove like a normal human being this time, glancing over to smile at Ianto occasionally and seeing he had drifted off again.
~*~*~*~
This time when Ianto woke up, it was with the feeling that not only had their journey come to an end, but a strange sense of foreboding was beginning to set in.
“I think this is it.” Jack was saying, narrowing his eyes at the card the address had been written on.
“Yeah ....” Ianto swallowed. “Let’s ... go inside.”
The house stood on a street in a battered council estate, most of which sported boarded up windows, graffittied with bright blue paint with overgrown front lawns covered with beer cans, broken glass and splintered fencing. The doors had a metal casing covering them in the hope of keeping squatters out, but on the house before them one of the perforations had been widened and twisted until it could be pulled to swing open easily, revealing a chipped, rotting black wooden door behind it.
“Are you sure this is the place your friend lives?” Jack was asking. “Doesn’t look very homey ... how long ago did you get the address?”
“We’ll just ... have to see ....” breathed Ianto, raising his fist to knock on the door. His knuckles brushed it, and it freely creaked open the whole way.
Ianto swallowed.
The house was dark, and the floor was bare and covered in dust. The stairs rose ominously in front of him, and a narrow hallway beside them lead on to what Ianto assumed would be a living room, a kitchen and possibly a dining room.
“Hello?” he called, wondering why it was so dark inside the house - even with the boarded-up windows - when it was not yet evening outside. “Hello?” he tried again, his voice echoing, the sound waves shifting some of the dust clinging to the ceiling overhead. “It’s Ianto Jones. You told me to come?”
“I don’t like it.” Jack muttered. “There’s something ... not right.”
“It’s fine ... she’s just playing.” Ianto replied quickly, trying to brush off his concern while hiding the fact he was probably feeling it ten times worse himself. “Hello?”
Still no reply.
“We ... should go in.”
“No. I don’t want to.” Jack scowled. “I don’t want you to either.”
“Go and wait in the car.” Ianto told him, taking a step up into the doorframe.
“I don’t want you to go in there!” snapped Jack, putting a hand out in front of him and leaning on the jamb to stop him.
“Jack ... I’ll go in, and I’ll shout back if she’s there. If not, we’ll go home. Okay?”
"I don't want you to go in there." Jack repeated firmly. "It's not right."
Ianto swallowed again, glancing back inside the strange darkness of the abandoned house. He knew this Jack would never let him go in there, and would go in there himself with Ianto if he thought there was danger.
"Ow!" Ianto suddenly exclaimed, raising his hand to his temple. "Ow, ow, ouch!"
"Are you okay?" asked Jack, worried, touching the hand massaging his head. "What's wrong?"
"I think I'm getting a migraine. I'm seeing colours ...."
"A migraine? Do you need painkillers?"
"Yes ... ow ... you ... can you go to ... there was a shop about five minutes drive away? Can you go there and get me some Migraleave and water?"
"C'mon ... we'll get you some ...."
"I can't go in the car with a migraine! Do you want my head to explode or something?" Ianto exclaimed. "OWW! Ohhh you made it worse by getting me annoyed!" he grumbled.
"Just ... here ...." Jack lead him down the weed encrusted path and sat him on the garden wall. "Sit here and I'll be back for you. Please don't be annoyed ... I'll be back soon. Don't worry." He pressed a kiss to Ianto's templed. "Oh ... that didn't make it worse, did it?"
"No ... it made it better for a fraction of a second." smiled Ianto. "But ... please hurry, Jack. I don't want to be writhing in agony when you get back ...."
Jack nodded, and hopped into the car. They'd left it running since they didn't have keys for it, and Ianto watched him speed off, wondering how the Hell he'd managed to get away with his rather over-dramatic migraine. Jack wasn't himself, he recalled, and stood up and re-approached the door.
"Hello?" he shouted in, knowing there probably wouldn't be a reply. His voice echoed around the empty shell of the house, the dust floating absently through the sun beams as his voice shook it from where it hopelessly clung.
Taking a final deep breath, he slowly raised his foot and forced himself into the house, his breathing deep and his blood thundering loudly around his body.
No footprints in the dust .... he observed, stepping fully into the dark, bare-floored hallway, raising his eyes to the top of the stairs. ... and I'm being watched ....
He could see nothing but what the light from the open door permitted him, and the top of the staircase vanished into inky gloom.
Ianto shivered.
"Don't be afraid." whispered an ancient, tired voice behind him.
Ianto spun, his breath coming quick and howling its way through his lungs, his eyes focussing on a gnarled old woman with pure white hair, an old-fashioned black gown and stood smiling a false smile in the doorway he had just entered from. She looked oddly out of place, the late afternoon sun creating a halo around her as she blocked his exit from the house.
"Who ... who are you?" Ianto managed.
Her smile changed from false to sad.
"You already know," she sighed. "you just don't know you know."
Ianto frowned. "What?"
"Be careful on the cellar steps - they get quite slippery if you're not concentrating."
With that, Ianto was plunged into darkness as the front door swung shut.
"No!" he gasped, lunging forward, hearing the lock click. The metal covering reverberated, and he heard the scratch and screech of the hinges as it clanged shut.
Struggling for breath, Ianto leant back against the wall.
Calm. Down. Calm. Down. Calm. Down ... he told himself, drawing in lungfuls of air and trying to stave off a panic attack, waiting for calm to come as his eyes began to adjust to the unnatural gloom.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest, the woman's words repeating themselves in his head.
She had warned him of the cellar steps.
Was he to go down, not up?
Slowly, Ianto raised his head, his blue eyes alert, piercing through the darkness. He decided to go to the kitchen. Cellars were usually accessed from the kitchen ....
Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he began to make his way slowly and tentatively to the back of the house. His footfalls were eerily muffled by the thick layer of undisturbed dust on the floor. He felt his feet stick slightly, and glanced down, seeing a darker patch of liquid black creeping out over the floor, clinging to his shoe like thick water.
Closing his eyes and breathing through his nose, he tried not to think about the fact he had stepped in blood.
Forcing himself onwards, he came to a door directly in front of him, and feeling for the handle found himself jumping back on instinct.
Static shock ... he breathed. Just a static shock ...
Muscle memory lead him back to the handle, and he pushed it down and let the door swing open.
As he had assumed, it was the back-most room and it was also the kitchen. Thin slivers of light pierced through the boards over the shattered windows, revealing little but the dull shine of the sink below them and another door set in the paint-peeled wall opposite the space where a stove probably once stood but had since been ripped out.
Trying to control his breathing again, Ianto took a deep breath and held it, listening carefully, sincerely hoping he was imagining the scratch ... scratch ... scratch of fingernails on wood emanating from where the closed door waited.
He hung his head, shaking, holding himself.
He wanted Jack. He wanted Tosh. He wanted Owen.
He wanted to one day see his baby, laughing and gurgling to him, reaching up to him from Lisa's arms as she held him out for Ianto to take and cuddle. He wanted Lisa.
Gathering a burst of resolve, Ianto strode purposefully forward, yanking the door open with no hesitation.
The scratching stopped as Ianto gazed down; stone steps spiralling below into a pool of darkness, an orange tinge at the bottom most edge of the black. The tinge flickered like candle light, brightening, dimming and brightening again. Reaching out then drawing back like waves on sand.
Swallowing louder than intended, Ianto slid his foot onto the first stone stair. The dust lay on them as thick as the rest of the floor, and fossilised remnants of woodlice and ants peppered the smooth, grey surface.
His footsteps were muffled but still sounded like hammers on anvils in his mind, descending slowly into the unknown as the orange light grew brighter with each step down, allowing his eyes to adjust to it after the pressing darkness of the house above.
Ianto froze.
There was a voice.
A child's voice - possibly a little girl.
She was singing.
Ianto had heard the song before, though he wasn't sure where, and found the melody that might have soothed him chilling him to his bones.
"Once in a town in the Black Forest,
A little white toy shop stood.
And a little tin soldier with only one leg,
Lived in a castle of wood ...."
He stepped down again, listening hard as the blood coursed through his ears and vied for his attention.
"And across the room on another shelf,
Stood a little glass palace.
And a tiny ballerina lived in there,
All in a dress of lace.
And from where the little tin soldier stood,
They could see each other so clear.
And the little tin soldier watched over her,
With a love that was so dear ...."
Ianto took the final turn, coming to an empty doorway lit in orange as the room beyond was seemingly filled with candles set in the dust of the concrete floor. In the corner directly opposite the doorway, a young man with dark, curly hair stood. He had his back to the room and his forehead resting in the right-angle of the wall. There was a strange air of sagging defeat around him, and Ianto was sure he recognised the figure through the poorly lit gloom.
Button.
Ianto loitered in the doorway, alert, as the little girl's voice carried on singing:
"Then one day sadness came,
The tiny ballerina was sold.
The little tin soldier was thrown away,
And into the gutter he rolled...."
Finally, he forced himself to pass through the doorway.
It was, indeed, a little girl, dressed all in white. There were candles all around her, making the underground air hot and stuffy as she stared into the dust before her and sang, a strange malicious lilt to her girlish vocals.
" The water carried him to the sea
And many far-off lands.
He made many children happy,
As he passed through their tiny hands.
But then one day they met again,
In a house in the land of Eire.
When the clock on the wall struck the midnight hour,
They jumped into a fire.
And in this fire, oh they will stay,
Forever and a day .... "
Her eyes moved sudden and sharp, and Ianto was sure the dark orbs could see straight through him. He stepped back instinctively, but held her gaze defiantly.
"Sit?" she offered.
"You ... you didn't finish your song." he observed.
"There is no one left who needs to hear it." she replied, taking a leather pouch out of her pocket. She gave him a pointed look, and Ianto sat before her, ignoring how dirty his trousers were going to get, and crossed his legs like he was sat on the carpet at school. He turned and glanced behind him.
Button was no longer stood with his back to the room, sagged against the wall in the corner.
Button was gone.
"Where did he ... ?" Ianto breathed, turning back to the little girl, but she didn't reply, emptying the contents of the bag onto the floor and disturbing the dust, covering the symbols she had evidently been drawing into it as she had been singing.
"Are you ... are you Faith?" he asked her.
Her eyes snapped to his, and she nodded once, then lowered them to concentrate on what she was doing.
Had Ianto not been quite so nervous, he would have rolled his eyes at the runes being tossed about in front of him.
"There ... there was no footprints in the dust." he told her.
"We didn't come in that way." she replied distractedly, moving some of the stones, lifting others, squinting at Ianto.
Ianto glanced around him, alone with Faith, seeing only one way in and out of the cellar.
"How did ... how did you get here, then?"
"What makes you so sure I'm there?" she countered, moving to kneel then sitting back on her heels. "What do you want from me?"
"You ... I ... I assumed you knew?"
"I want to hear it from you."
"I ... my Captain needs help. He was ... he was drugged and ... he's not himself. He's a prisoner in his own head and he ... he can't get out and ... and it hurts me ...." he said, his voice lowering to a whisper as he approached his final admission.
Faith nodded. "Interesting. So different from him ...." she muttered, scooping up her stones and laying them aside, producing a deck of large tarot cards and offering them to Ianto for shuffling.
"Different? How? In what way from ... from your perspective ...?"
"When he came to me to find help for you and Lisa, we had to teach him about selflessness and what 'loving others' truly entailed." she explained. "Aside from a false start, you mentioned yourself and your needs and your benefits once in your entire plea."
"You ... I ... You will help?"
"I shall. But you must prove yourself further, young man, if I am going to give you what you seek."
"Prove myself?" he asked, ignoring the 'young man' pet name coming from an eleven-year-old girl.
"You are doubtlessly selfless," she told him, dealing out her cards. "but are you loyal?"
"Loyal? I ... I am ... I've ... fiercely loyal!"
"To whom?"
"To ... to ... I ... I don't know ...." he flailed. "But ...."
"Lisa?" she asked.
"Yes!"
"... and yet you freely sleep with her father?"
Ianto blinked. Did average eleven-year-olds know what that meant? He had no idea when sex education occurred in schools ... then again, this child was clearly ... far from 'average'.
"That's ... different ...." he mumbled.
"Are you loyal to the Captain?" she continued, reading the cards.
"I ... yes!"
"Then ... why are you here alone while he is off trying to find you something for your agonising headache? You tricked him."
"That's not the Captain. That's ... he's ... that's not him. That's not my Jack."
"Hmmm."
Faith cocked her head to the side in mock-thought. "I'm still not too sure. Why should I help you save a man who cannot even trust you?"
"You're ... are you ... you're not going to help?"
"You must prove yourself."
"How?"
She considered and calculated, then smiled, the corner of her mouth quirking. Her dark eyes met his, and the candles flickered in a non-existent breeze.
"There is a man you call your brother."
Ianto nodded slowly. Owen.
"He is still very, very sick. His lungs are broken. He can't live without the machines by his bed."
Ianto sniffed, hearing of Owen and Owen's suffering - hearing how badly injured he was, and knowing it was his fault. He nodded again.
"Switch them off." she ordered calmly.
"Excuse me?"
"Switch off the machines."
"You ... I ... I ... I can't ...! Please, just ... you said you'd help!"
She nodded, her half-smirk still in place.
"This ... this is ... is this fun for you?" he hissed, pulling himself to his feet.
"No one will help you." she told him calmly as he rose tall and angry above her. "No one can help you. Your Captain will suffocate and deteriorate and die while his body lives on, diseased and no longer his own. It will be your fault, because you were not loyal."
"This isn't loyalty!" Ianto snapped. "This is ... this is ... I won't ... let me ... let me think about ... let me think about it ...."
He ran his hands through his hair, covered his mouth, scratched his head.
"There ... there has to be something else ... please? What else can I do?"
"I told you." Faith intoned. "And I shall not tell you again."
He opened his mouth and closed it again silently, pressing his lips together, staring at her. He thought of Jack, of Jack's suffering. He thought of Lisa and his baby, and how they needed him, and how he could never truly be with them if Jack did not get better.
He thought of Toshiko and her baby, and how much they needed Owen.
"Okay," he sniffed, reaching his decision. "I'll ... I'll do it. I'll ... I'll turn the machine off. I give you my word. But ... you have to cure Jack first."
Faith nodded.
"As soon as he crosses the threshold of the house, he will be well again. I know you will keep your word. The cards say so."
Ianto nodded, his heart sinking to his stomach like a marble weight. Slowly, he turned, and made his way to the gloom of the spiral stairs. Carefully, he made his way up, nearly losing his footing part of the way on a particularly smooth and slippery step, throwing his hands out in front of him and managing not to fall down.
He shut the door to the cellar behind him, squinting through the dark of the kitchen to find his way back to the hall.
He didn't look behind him when he heard giggling in the adjoining rooms.
He didn't glance to the top of the stairs when a tiny cough echoed down from the landing.
He ignored the croaking voice that grated his name as he pulled the rotting and already unlocked front door open.
The sunlight hurt his eyes as he stepped onto the weed-addled path, and he squinted painfully as the glare seemed to claw at his mind, starting up a headache.
Five minutes after returning to sit on the wall where Jack had left him, the rumble of a car engine sounded down the street. He watched as the BMW came to a halt before him, and the Captain climbed out, rounded the car and sat beside him, offering him painkillers and chocolate milk.
Ianto sighed, drinking down the tablets, then getting to his feet. "C'mon, scaredy. Let's explore!"
Jack glanced back at the house. "I don't wanna."
"I dare you to stand inside the door." Ianto challenged, and he saw the Captain's eyes flicker. "I'll do it first, just to prove you're a baby."
He marched purposefully to the metal casing of the door, pulling it back and reaching forward to push the flimsy piece of wood back to gain entrance to the house. He stepped inside and turned around to Jack in a 'ta-dah!' sort of way.
Jack shuffled nervously, followed him down the path and halted by the doorstep.
"C'mon, wimp." goaded Ianto, stepping down to stand beside him. "Just stand in the doorway. I promise to tell all the girls you went all the way inside the house."
Jack swallowed. "This is silly."
"That's why it's fun!" grinned Ianto. Jack peered into the house.
"I can ... I can hear ...."
Ianto pushed him, and he stumbled forward. He froze in the doorway, he breathing heavy, doubling over then standing poker-straight. Ianto watched his back as arms raised to massage temples, flex fingers and rub aches.
The Captain turned sharply, his eyes squinting in the sunlight.
And it was the Captain. Ianto looked into his eyes, seeing that sharp intelligence, the humour and the pain reflecting back. The corners crinkled as he grinned, and Ianto smiled back, sagging with relief as Jack laughed and scooped him up into his arms.
"Ianto!" he cried. "Ianto!"
"It's you ...." Ianto mumbled into his shoulder, clinging to him on the garden path as the front door of the house slammed shut. "It's you ... it's really you ...."
FIN
Comment if you liked, or if you didn't, or if you're simply feeling type-ish.
This chapter was forzsazsa4168 because she's was lovely enough to nominate me for a Children of Time award, even if nothing came of it, and also for artcanvas because it's his/her birthday and was suffering from withdrawal :)
Also, I apologise to the Button fans who got the 'Blair Witch' reference.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Author:
a_silver_storyChapter: 29/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe, torture (not graphic)
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
Silver Service | 29
Dangerous.
That really was the only word Ianto could think of to describe Jack’s driving. While ‘fast’, ‘reckless’ and ‘mortally perilous’ sprang to mind, ‘dangerous’ was round about the only word Ianto could dredge forward as they swerved a slalom from the left hand lane, across the middle and into the fast lane and back again, narrowly dodging cars and travelling at around about a hundred and thirty.
“Please ... be careful, Jack ....” gasped Ianto, his knuckles white on the dashboard of the stolen Audi.
“I’m concentrating.” Jack growled in reply as another driver honked his horn.
“Jack ... there’s been no sign of them yet ... Just ... please can we slow a little ....”
“When the fast lane clears, I’ll slow.” he promised as the engine roared in protest at being egged on faster.
Ianto closed his eyes, and decided that not thinking about or seeing what was happening would probably do wonders for his current mental state. After a few minutes, he felt the gravity on the car and the forces acting upon it shift, and slowly opened his eyes to see they were finally dropping in speed. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over at the speedometer and saw they were slowly approaching something resembling the speed limit, and the blurs that had been the other cars were beginning to take a solid shape.
“How can you drive that fast and not get us killed?”
“In the RAF you have to fly like that normally. It’s called ‘finely honed reactions’. Are you alright?”
Ianto blinked. It had been a long time since Jack had asked after his welfare. “I ... yes ... I am now.”
“Good ... good.”
The Captain began indicating he was pulling into the next lane, and Ianto checked to see he was heading towards the exit they needed.
“Country lanes for a few miles after this.” he sighed. “You will be careful on those, won’t you? You’re more likely to be in an accident on a narrow country lane than on a motorway full of idiots driving like you.”
“I promise to keep you safe.” Jack replied, distracted for a moment by the mirrors, checking the rest of the traffic.
They sighed in unison, though neither of them really noticed, and fell into silence. Eventually, Ianto leaned forward and put the radio on, and they drove on quietly.
Ianto must have fallen asleep. He opened his eyes, groggy, a headache starting to form where his head had been resting against the cold window.
“C’mon ....” Jack’s voice was whispering near his ear. “... wake up, Ianto. Gotta wake up.”
Groaning he turned to Jack, squinting at him in the sunlight. “What?”
“I need your joy riding skills. Ditch this car, get another.”
“They know where we’re headed, Jack.”
“What if they’ve figured out which car we stole?” he asked. “Just in case, I parked it where it can be seen before pulling into the services. If they spot it, they’ll pull in here to search. It could buy us time.”
Ianto nodded, deciding it was logical. “Wait!” he grinned, another idea coming to him. He took a piece of scrap paper from the glove compartment and scribbled down a false address and postcode for the same area as where the black line in the A to Z in Jack’s car ended, but changed the last couple of numbers to a made up combination. “There ... they might know it’s fake, but it’s worth a try.” he said, dropping it near the car.
The car park was pretty crowded as it was just past midday and several people were pulling in for lunch. They got a couple of funny looks as Ianto began forcing down the window of a BMW, but Jack just told them they’d locked the keys in the car – did they look like they were car thieves? The people would take in Ianto's expensive suit and Jack’s ex-military garb – maybe recognised him – and nod, and Jack thanked them for their vigilance. He’d like to think if someone was trying to steal the car, someone else would say something.
Eventually they were in, and as Jack settled into the driver’s seat Ianto began messing with the wires, his head practically in the Captain’s lap. Jack ran fingers through his hair, annoying him unintentionally, but he didn’t say anything, concentrating on the task in hand and feeling a strange sense of victory when the engine grumbled into life.
They began to make their way out of the car park, pulling back onto the motorway they’d had to rejoin after their sojourn to the country. Jack drove like a normal human being this time, glancing over to smile at Ianto occasionally and seeing he had drifted off again.
This time when Ianto woke up, it was with the feeling that not only had their journey come to an end, but a strange sense of foreboding was beginning to set in.
“I think this is it.” Jack was saying, narrowing his eyes at the card the address had been written on.
“Yeah ....” Ianto swallowed. “Let’s ... go inside.”
The house stood on a street in a battered council estate, most of which sported boarded up windows, graffittied with bright blue paint with overgrown front lawns covered with beer cans, broken glass and splintered fencing. The doors had a metal casing covering them in the hope of keeping squatters out, but on the house before them one of the perforations had been widened and twisted until it could be pulled to swing open easily, revealing a chipped, rotting black wooden door behind it.
“Are you sure this is the place your friend lives?” Jack was asking. “Doesn’t look very homey ... how long ago did you get the address?”
“We’ll just ... have to see ....” breathed Ianto, raising his fist to knock on the door. His knuckles brushed it, and it freely creaked open the whole way.
Ianto swallowed.
The house was dark, and the floor was bare and covered in dust. The stairs rose ominously in front of him, and a narrow hallway beside them lead on to what Ianto assumed would be a living room, a kitchen and possibly a dining room.
“Hello?” he called, wondering why it was so dark inside the house - even with the boarded-up windows - when it was not yet evening outside. “Hello?” he tried again, his voice echoing, the sound waves shifting some of the dust clinging to the ceiling overhead. “It’s Ianto Jones. You told me to come?”
“I don’t like it.” Jack muttered. “There’s something ... not right.”
“It’s fine ... she’s just playing.” Ianto replied quickly, trying to brush off his concern while hiding the fact he was probably feeling it ten times worse himself. “Hello?”
Still no reply.
“We ... should go in.”
“No. I don’t want to.” Jack scowled. “I don’t want you to either.”
“Go and wait in the car.” Ianto told him, taking a step up into the doorframe.
“I don’t want you to go in there!” snapped Jack, putting a hand out in front of him and leaning on the jamb to stop him.
“Jack ... I’ll go in, and I’ll shout back if she’s there. If not, we’ll go home. Okay?”
"I don't want you to go in there." Jack repeated firmly. "It's not right."
Ianto swallowed again, glancing back inside the strange darkness of the abandoned house. He knew this Jack would never let him go in there, and would go in there himself with Ianto if he thought there was danger.
"Ow!" Ianto suddenly exclaimed, raising his hand to his temple. "Ow, ow, ouch!"
"Are you okay?" asked Jack, worried, touching the hand massaging his head. "What's wrong?"
"I think I'm getting a migraine. I'm seeing colours ...."
"A migraine? Do you need painkillers?"
"Yes ... ow ... you ... can you go to ... there was a shop about five minutes drive away? Can you go there and get me some Migraleave and water?"
"C'mon ... we'll get you some ...."
"I can't go in the car with a migraine! Do you want my head to explode or something?" Ianto exclaimed. "OWW! Ohhh you made it worse by getting me annoyed!" he grumbled.
"Just ... here ...." Jack lead him down the weed encrusted path and sat him on the garden wall. "Sit here and I'll be back for you. Please don't be annoyed ... I'll be back soon. Don't worry." He pressed a kiss to Ianto's templed. "Oh ... that didn't make it worse, did it?"
"No ... it made it better for a fraction of a second." smiled Ianto. "But ... please hurry, Jack. I don't want to be writhing in agony when you get back ...."
Jack nodded, and hopped into the car. They'd left it running since they didn't have keys for it, and Ianto watched him speed off, wondering how the Hell he'd managed to get away with his rather over-dramatic migraine. Jack wasn't himself, he recalled, and stood up and re-approached the door.
"Hello?" he shouted in, knowing there probably wouldn't be a reply. His voice echoed around the empty shell of the house, the dust floating absently through the sun beams as his voice shook it from where it hopelessly clung.
Taking a final deep breath, he slowly raised his foot and forced himself into the house, his breathing deep and his blood thundering loudly around his body.
No footprints in the dust .... he observed, stepping fully into the dark, bare-floored hallway, raising his eyes to the top of the stairs. ... and I'm being watched ....
He could see nothing but what the light from the open door permitted him, and the top of the staircase vanished into inky gloom.
Ianto shivered.
"Don't be afraid." whispered an ancient, tired voice behind him.
Ianto spun, his breath coming quick and howling its way through his lungs, his eyes focussing on a gnarled old woman with pure white hair, an old-fashioned black gown and stood smiling a false smile in the doorway he had just entered from. She looked oddly out of place, the late afternoon sun creating a halo around her as she blocked his exit from the house.
"Who ... who are you?" Ianto managed.
Her smile changed from false to sad.
"You already know," she sighed. "you just don't know you know."
Ianto frowned. "What?"
"Be careful on the cellar steps - they get quite slippery if you're not concentrating."
With that, Ianto was plunged into darkness as the front door swung shut.
"No!" he gasped, lunging forward, hearing the lock click. The metal covering reverberated, and he heard the scratch and screech of the hinges as it clanged shut.
Struggling for breath, Ianto leant back against the wall.
Calm. Down. Calm. Down. Calm. Down ... he told himself, drawing in lungfuls of air and trying to stave off a panic attack, waiting for calm to come as his eyes began to adjust to the unnatural gloom.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest, the woman's words repeating themselves in his head.
She had warned him of the cellar steps.
Was he to go down, not up?
Slowly, Ianto raised his head, his blue eyes alert, piercing through the darkness. He decided to go to the kitchen. Cellars were usually accessed from the kitchen ....
Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he began to make his way slowly and tentatively to the back of the house. His footfalls were eerily muffled by the thick layer of undisturbed dust on the floor. He felt his feet stick slightly, and glanced down, seeing a darker patch of liquid black creeping out over the floor, clinging to his shoe like thick water.
Closing his eyes and breathing through his nose, he tried not to think about the fact he had stepped in blood.
Forcing himself onwards, he came to a door directly in front of him, and feeling for the handle found himself jumping back on instinct.
Static shock ... he breathed. Just a static shock ...
Muscle memory lead him back to the handle, and he pushed it down and let the door swing open.
As he had assumed, it was the back-most room and it was also the kitchen. Thin slivers of light pierced through the boards over the shattered windows, revealing little but the dull shine of the sink below them and another door set in the paint-peeled wall opposite the space where a stove probably once stood but had since been ripped out.
Trying to control his breathing again, Ianto took a deep breath and held it, listening carefully, sincerely hoping he was imagining the scratch ... scratch ... scratch of fingernails on wood emanating from where the closed door waited.
He hung his head, shaking, holding himself.
He wanted Jack. He wanted Tosh. He wanted Owen.
He wanted to one day see his baby, laughing and gurgling to him, reaching up to him from Lisa's arms as she held him out for Ianto to take and cuddle. He wanted Lisa.
Gathering a burst of resolve, Ianto strode purposefully forward, yanking the door open with no hesitation.
The scratching stopped as Ianto gazed down; stone steps spiralling below into a pool of darkness, an orange tinge at the bottom most edge of the black. The tinge flickered like candle light, brightening, dimming and brightening again. Reaching out then drawing back like waves on sand.
Swallowing louder than intended, Ianto slid his foot onto the first stone stair. The dust lay on them as thick as the rest of the floor, and fossilised remnants of woodlice and ants peppered the smooth, grey surface.
His footsteps were muffled but still sounded like hammers on anvils in his mind, descending slowly into the unknown as the orange light grew brighter with each step down, allowing his eyes to adjust to it after the pressing darkness of the house above.
Ianto froze.
There was a voice.
A child's voice - possibly a little girl.
She was singing.
Ianto had heard the song before, though he wasn't sure where, and found the melody that might have soothed him chilling him to his bones.
"Once in a town in the Black Forest,
A little white toy shop stood.
And a little tin soldier with only one leg,
Lived in a castle of wood ...."
He stepped down again, listening hard as the blood coursed through his ears and vied for his attention.
"And across the room on another shelf,
Stood a little glass palace.
And a tiny ballerina lived in there,
All in a dress of lace.
And from where the little tin soldier stood,
They could see each other so clear.
And the little tin soldier watched over her,
With a love that was so dear ...."
Ianto took the final turn, coming to an empty doorway lit in orange as the room beyond was seemingly filled with candles set in the dust of the concrete floor. In the corner directly opposite the doorway, a young man with dark, curly hair stood. He had his back to the room and his forehead resting in the right-angle of the wall. There was a strange air of sagging defeat around him, and Ianto was sure he recognised the figure through the poorly lit gloom.
Button.
Ianto loitered in the doorway, alert, as the little girl's voice carried on singing:
"Then one day sadness came,
The tiny ballerina was sold.
The little tin soldier was thrown away,
And into the gutter he rolled...."
Finally, he forced himself to pass through the doorway.
It was, indeed, a little girl, dressed all in white. There were candles all around her, making the underground air hot and stuffy as she stared into the dust before her and sang, a strange malicious lilt to her girlish vocals.
" The water carried him to the sea
And many far-off lands.
He made many children happy,
As he passed through their tiny hands.
But then one day they met again,
In a house in the land of Eire.
When the clock on the wall struck the midnight hour,
They jumped into a fire.
And in this fire, oh they will stay,
Forever and a day .... "
Her eyes moved sudden and sharp, and Ianto was sure the dark orbs could see straight through him. He stepped back instinctively, but held her gaze defiantly.
"Sit?" she offered.
"You ... you didn't finish your song." he observed.
"There is no one left who needs to hear it." she replied, taking a leather pouch out of her pocket. She gave him a pointed look, and Ianto sat before her, ignoring how dirty his trousers were going to get, and crossed his legs like he was sat on the carpet at school. He turned and glanced behind him.
Button was no longer stood with his back to the room, sagged against the wall in the corner.
Button was gone.
"Where did he ... ?" Ianto breathed, turning back to the little girl, but she didn't reply, emptying the contents of the bag onto the floor and disturbing the dust, covering the symbols she had evidently been drawing into it as she had been singing.
"Are you ... are you Faith?" he asked her.
Her eyes snapped to his, and she nodded once, then lowered them to concentrate on what she was doing.
Had Ianto not been quite so nervous, he would have rolled his eyes at the runes being tossed about in front of him.
"There ... there was no footprints in the dust." he told her.
"We didn't come in that way." she replied distractedly, moving some of the stones, lifting others, squinting at Ianto.
Ianto glanced around him, alone with Faith, seeing only one way in and out of the cellar.
"How did ... how did you get here, then?"
"What makes you so sure I'm there?" she countered, moving to kneel then sitting back on her heels. "What do you want from me?"
"You ... I ... I assumed you knew?"
"I want to hear it from you."
"I ... my Captain needs help. He was ... he was drugged and ... he's not himself. He's a prisoner in his own head and he ... he can't get out and ... and it hurts me ...." he said, his voice lowering to a whisper as he approached his final admission.
Faith nodded. "Interesting. So different from him ...." she muttered, scooping up her stones and laying them aside, producing a deck of large tarot cards and offering them to Ianto for shuffling.
"Different? How? In what way from ... from your perspective ...?"
"When he came to me to find help for you and Lisa, we had to teach him about selflessness and what 'loving others' truly entailed." she explained. "Aside from a false start, you mentioned yourself and your needs and your benefits once in your entire plea."
"You ... I ... You will help?"
"I shall. But you must prove yourself further, young man, if I am going to give you what you seek."
"Prove myself?" he asked, ignoring the 'young man' pet name coming from an eleven-year-old girl.
"You are doubtlessly selfless," she told him, dealing out her cards. "but are you loyal?"
"Loyal? I ... I am ... I've ... fiercely loyal!"
"To whom?"
"To ... to ... I ... I don't know ...." he flailed. "But ...."
"Lisa?" she asked.
"Yes!"
"... and yet you freely sleep with her father?"
Ianto blinked. Did average eleven-year-olds know what that meant? He had no idea when sex education occurred in schools ... then again, this child was clearly ... far from 'average'.
"That's ... different ...." he mumbled.
"Are you loyal to the Captain?" she continued, reading the cards.
"I ... yes!"
"Then ... why are you here alone while he is off trying to find you something for your agonising headache? You tricked him."
"That's not the Captain. That's ... he's ... that's not him. That's not my Jack."
"Hmmm."
Faith cocked her head to the side in mock-thought. "I'm still not too sure. Why should I help you save a man who cannot even trust you?"
"You're ... are you ... you're not going to help?"
"You must prove yourself."
"How?"
She considered and calculated, then smiled, the corner of her mouth quirking. Her dark eyes met his, and the candles flickered in a non-existent breeze.
"There is a man you call your brother."
Ianto nodded slowly. Owen.
"He is still very, very sick. His lungs are broken. He can't live without the machines by his bed."
Ianto sniffed, hearing of Owen and Owen's suffering - hearing how badly injured he was, and knowing it was his fault. He nodded again.
"Switch them off." she ordered calmly.
"Excuse me?"
"Switch off the machines."
"You ... I ... I ... I can't ...! Please, just ... you said you'd help!"
She nodded, her half-smirk still in place.
"This ... this is ... is this fun for you?" he hissed, pulling himself to his feet.
"No one will help you." she told him calmly as he rose tall and angry above her. "No one can help you. Your Captain will suffocate and deteriorate and die while his body lives on, diseased and no longer his own. It will be your fault, because you were not loyal."
"This isn't loyalty!" Ianto snapped. "This is ... this is ... I won't ... let me ... let me think about ... let me think about it ...."
He ran his hands through his hair, covered his mouth, scratched his head.
"There ... there has to be something else ... please? What else can I do?"
"I told you." Faith intoned. "And I shall not tell you again."
He opened his mouth and closed it again silently, pressing his lips together, staring at her. He thought of Jack, of Jack's suffering. He thought of Lisa and his baby, and how they needed him, and how he could never truly be with them if Jack did not get better.
He thought of Toshiko and her baby, and how much they needed Owen.
"Okay," he sniffed, reaching his decision. "I'll ... I'll do it. I'll ... I'll turn the machine off. I give you my word. But ... you have to cure Jack first."
Faith nodded.
"As soon as he crosses the threshold of the house, he will be well again. I know you will keep your word. The cards say so."
Ianto nodded, his heart sinking to his stomach like a marble weight. Slowly, he turned, and made his way to the gloom of the spiral stairs. Carefully, he made his way up, nearly losing his footing part of the way on a particularly smooth and slippery step, throwing his hands out in front of him and managing not to fall down.
He shut the door to the cellar behind him, squinting through the dark of the kitchen to find his way back to the hall.
He didn't look behind him when he heard giggling in the adjoining rooms.
He didn't glance to the top of the stairs when a tiny cough echoed down from the landing.
He ignored the croaking voice that grated his name as he pulled the rotting and already unlocked front door open.
The sunlight hurt his eyes as he stepped onto the weed-addled path, and he squinted painfully as the glare seemed to claw at his mind, starting up a headache.
Five minutes after returning to sit on the wall where Jack had left him, the rumble of a car engine sounded down the street. He watched as the BMW came to a halt before him, and the Captain climbed out, rounded the car and sat beside him, offering him painkillers and chocolate milk.
Ianto sighed, drinking down the tablets, then getting to his feet. "C'mon, scaredy. Let's explore!"
Jack glanced back at the house. "I don't wanna."
"I dare you to stand inside the door." Ianto challenged, and he saw the Captain's eyes flicker. "I'll do it first, just to prove you're a baby."
He marched purposefully to the metal casing of the door, pulling it back and reaching forward to push the flimsy piece of wood back to gain entrance to the house. He stepped inside and turned around to Jack in a 'ta-dah!' sort of way.
Jack shuffled nervously, followed him down the path and halted by the doorstep.
"C'mon, wimp." goaded Ianto, stepping down to stand beside him. "Just stand in the doorway. I promise to tell all the girls you went all the way inside the house."
Jack swallowed. "This is silly."
"That's why it's fun!" grinned Ianto. Jack peered into the house.
"I can ... I can hear ...."
Ianto pushed him, and he stumbled forward. He froze in the doorway, he breathing heavy, doubling over then standing poker-straight. Ianto watched his back as arms raised to massage temples, flex fingers and rub aches.
The Captain turned sharply, his eyes squinting in the sunlight.
And it was the Captain. Ianto looked into his eyes, seeing that sharp intelligence, the humour and the pain reflecting back. The corners crinkled as he grinned, and Ianto smiled back, sagging with relief as Jack laughed and scooped him up into his arms.
"Ianto!" he cried. "Ianto!"
"It's you ...." Ianto mumbled into his shoulder, clinging to him on the garden path as the front door of the house slammed shut. "It's you ... it's really you ...."
FIN
Comment if you liked, or if you didn't, or if you're simply feeling type-ish.
This chapter was for
zsazsa4168 because she's was lovely enough to nominate me for a Children of Time award, even if nothing came of it, and also for artcanvas because it's his/her birthday and was suffering from withdrawal :)Also, I apologise to the Button fans who got the 'Blair Witch' reference.
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Date: 2010-01-18 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 04:41 am (UTC):D
And i am a Lady.
lol
great job! i really loved this and i missed jack, i'm glad he's back!
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Date: 2010-01-18 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 05:06 am (UTC)I'm hoping Faith will be kind to Ianto for passing her 'test' with regards to Owen. Otherwise, Ianto will be angry with himself as will everyone else.
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Date: 2010-01-18 06:15 am (UTC)But Owen omg noooooo!
This is ianto clever funny brave ianto he has to find a way out.
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Date: 2010-01-18 07:45 am (UTC)But poor Ianto and Owen, what's going to happen with them and Ianto's promise *bites lip*
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Date: 2010-01-18 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 08:51 am (UTC)What happened to Button, is the song relevant (love the Irish reference), has Lisa's forecast death been changed - although Ianto didn't know about that...
Most importantly Owen's death isn't really a trade for Jack's sanity, is it? Or maybe it's a trade for Lisa's or the baby's? You can't kill Owen, please! I know he caused trouble for Ianto at times, but he looked after him too and poor Tosh.
Yeah for having the real Jack back!
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Date: 2010-01-18 02:13 pm (UTC)I'm worried about Owen though.
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Date: 2010-01-18 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 02:52 pm (UTC)I'm glad Jack is at least himself, altho I'm concerned about the price Owen has to pay for it, and I think Faith is a bitch for making Ianto do something like that, plus I'm still apprehensive waiting for the other closet full of shoes to drop.
This has almost made up for the fact that I'm in my office on a national holiday with a headache the size of Port-au-Prince. I can tell from the comments that this fic, at my request, has brought joy to many others. Now if I can just get my phone to text "Haiti" to 90999 perhaps I can call it a day.
And don't think I haven't asked CoT WTF. Let you know what I hear.
Here's me resisting the urge to pout like a 5-year-old and beg for more fic. *grins*
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Date: 2010-01-18 06:03 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing and I'm waiting for next update.
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Date: 2010-01-18 06:42 pm (UTC)On the other hand, I am soooo happy that our Jack is back!!!
MORE *poke you*
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Date: 2010-01-19 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-19 06:42 am (UTC)So glad Jack is back, but ack in the doorway...that is giving me the shivers and what is Ianto's real test? Nail biting commences!
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Date: 2010-01-19 10:50 am (UTC)great update
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Date: 2010-01-20 05:14 pm (UTC)Impatiently waiting for the next chapter :D
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Date: 2010-01-21 02:57 pm (UTC)Thankgoodness that Jack is back!
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Date: 2010-01-23 06:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 02:07 pm (UTC)